Meet the new Norm

Thirty years is a long apprenticeship, but perhaps not to someone like Larry Richman.

Thirty years is a long apprenticeship, but perhaps not to someone like Larry Richman.

Mr. Richman, who took over last week as chief executive of LaSalle Bank N.A. after three decades as a lieutenant of longtime CEO Norman Bobins, has a reputation as steady, mild-mannered and buttoned-down  indeed, he allows that he's never undone the top button of his collar at work.

That steadiness will be tested as he confronts the uncertainty over the future of LaSalle's Dutch parent, ABN Amro Holding N.V., and as he deals with the potential threat from competitors who view Mr. Bobins' exit as an opening to pry away customers.

The life of Mr. Richman, 54, has been framed largely by two longstanding relationships: with wife Corinne (Corky), whom he met in high school at age 15, and Mr. Bobins, 64, who supervised Mr. Richman at American National Bank and persuaded him in 1981 to join him at a small, underperforming lender, Exchange National Bank, which merged with LaSalle nine years later.

Nicor Inc. CEO Russ Strobel, a friend of Mr. Richman's dating back to their days together in the class of 1970 at Maine East High School in Park Ridge, says, "Larry always seemed to be more adult than most of the kids. More poised."

If there had been a vote on such a thing, Mr. Strobel says, "he would have been the most likely to stay married for 30 years and have the same job for 30 years."

Indeed, Mr. Richman is a creature of habit. His daily regimen begins before 5 a.m. with a cardio and weights workout, progresses to a client breakfast and wraps up after 6 p.m. following at least one more client meeting. He eats the same lunch every day  soup, a fruit plate and yogurt, washed down with an iced tea. The waiters in LaSalle's corporate dining rooms "humor me with a menu," he jokes.

He recalls mistakenly circling a different menu choice there one day as he was immersed in conversation with a customer, and the waiter rushed back, asking, "Mr. Richman, are you sure this is what you want?"

Mr. Bobins says Mr. Richman extends the same consistency to clients, making him the perfect man to carry on a tradition that made Mr. Bobins legendary in the industry: the meticulous care and feeding of customers that propelled LaSalle to the top of Chicago's business banking market in the late 1990s. "I see a lot of myself in Larry," he says.

Mr. Richman is a true believer in Mr. Bobins' relationship-banking mantra. He sees his responsibility as preserving LaSalle's ethos, which Mr. Bobins defines as "a relationship-driven culture, a sales and marketing culture, a can-do culture."

Says Mr. Richman: "Everyone is either a customer, a prospect or a referral source. I learned that from him."

As he takes the reins, Mr. Richman must focus on profit growth in a challenging environment. An activist hedge fund in London is pressuring ABN Amro to spin off or sell its parts, including LaSalle, and wants shareholders to vote on the question at the April 26 annual meeting. And ABN Amro is searching for a chief executive of North American operations, the first person other than Mr. Bobins to whom Mr. Richman will report in virtually his entire career.

Meanwhile, LaSalle is cutting 500 jobs in Chicago as part of a profit-growth push by ABN Amro. LaSalle's banking operations in Illinois and Michigan generated $1.26 billion in net income last year, up just 2% from $1.24 billion in 2005, despite asset growth of 12%.

Mr. Richman declines to comment on the parent's issues, saying only, "We have control of our destiny, provided we perform."

Few who know him doubt his ability to focus. At age 22, Mr. Richman interviewed for his first big job, at American National, then Chicago's top business bank, the day after the memorial service for his father, a wholesaler for clothing manufacturers who died after a six-month battle with cancer. There was no hesitancy about going forward.

"I'm a very caring person, but at the same time I recognized (the interview) was critically important to do," he says. Today, as a tribute, he ensures his driving route from his home in northwest suburban Arlington Heights takes him past the Merchandise Mart, where his father worked. He calls his four adult children nearly every night as he drives home just to check in.

Says son Don Richman, 25, a junior investment banker in Chicago: "If I don't hear from him, I'll probably give him a call or call the house. . . . It's one of those things."